


A Gentleman (And A Thief)

by leiascully



Category: Firefly, House M.D.
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-10
Updated: 2009-09-10
Packaged: 2017-10-03 01:58:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"That is exactly why you do your clinic hours."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gentleman (And A Thief)

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: For [**cuddy_fest**](http://community.livejournal.com/cuddy_fest/) Prompt 293, which read simply "Cuddy/Captain Mal Reynolds".   
> Disclaimer: _House M.D._ and all related characters are property of Heel and Toe Films, Shore Z Productions and Bad Hat Harry Productions in association with NBC Universal Television Studio. _Firefly_ and all related characters are the property of Joss Whedon. I make no money from writing this and no infringement is intended, just deep admiration and a need to fill in some blanks.

Nurse Previn's page was titillatingly brief: NEED YOU CLINIC BIZARRE. Cuddy made her excuses wrapped up her meeting with the recent pool of donors and clattered down the stairs, too impatient to wait for the elevator. She strode into the clinic to find a small mob ringing a man who had one hand pressed to a bleeding wound in his abdomen and the other arm slung over the shoulders of a tall gorgeous black woman, who was eying the crowd coolly, as if measuring the distance from her fist to someone's jaw. Cuddy glanced at the woman's long legs and dusty clothes and gave her pretty good odds to defeat the entire nursing staff. The man was wearing suspenders, and both of them had on boots. They didn't look like typical clinic fare. The woman touched her hip as if she were missing something.

"Are you sure we ought to be here, sir?" she murmured. "People seem a mite spooky."

"Can't rightly think of any other place better," he said back. "Nothin' but a hospital stinks this way. You got to have a little faith in people, Zoe."

Cuddy pressed through the mass of her staff, who gave way before her. "Can I help you?"

"Ah!" said the man, brightening visibly despite his pallor. "You must be the sheriff around these parts."

"So to speak. I'm Doctor Cuddy," she said cautiously.

"This is a hospital, ain't it?"

"Yes, this is Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital."

"Well then, everything's shiny." He relaxed. "See, I got me in a mite of trouble down the way and owin' to what you might call an unfortunate collision of circumstances, I ain't had much access to a sawbones lately. Think you could see your way clear to patching me up, Doc?"

Cuddy looked around. None of her staff would look her in the eye. Later they were going to get a talking to about the standards of practice in the free clinic. If they started turning away everyone who seemed crazy, the clinic would lose all meaning as a project of charity for the community. At least this one was articulate. "Follow me, please," she said. "Nurse Previn, are there any rooms free?"

"Doctor House is asleep in room four," Previn said, "but I think three's available."

"That will work fine. If you would?" Cuddy said to the woman, gesturing to Exam Room Three.

"I don't like this, sir," said the woman.

"Tell me something new," he said. "Some things you got to get done." He grimaced theatrically as she shouldered him along.

"Nurse Previn?" said Cuddy, pivoting to follow her patient. "Tell Doctor House I'll deal with him later, and send someone in with the paperwork." Previn nodded and Cuddy turned smartly on her heel, well aware of the eyes of her hospital at her back. When she got into the room, the man was sitting on the exam table wincing, and the woman had taken up a position near the door with her arms crossed.

"At ease, Zoe," the man said. "Doc's gonna fix me up good. Better 'n ever."

"This is a free clinic," Cuddy said, looking between them, "but you will still have to fill out a few forms, if you don't mind." One of the juniors scuttled in with a clipboard and Cuddy stopped her with a glance. "Intern Shah can help you with that. Shah? Will you show the lady where she can find a place to sit?"

"Sure you should be alone in a place like this?" the woman, Zoe, said, speaking directly to the man.

"I'll be along by and by," he said. "You go make sure we're all official-like." His face squeezed momentarily into what looked like half a wink and Zoe relaxed a fraction. She strode along with Shah, looking as if she were the one leading the intern.

"So what seems to be the problem, Mister...?" Cuddy began.

"Reynolds. Malcolm Reynolds. Mal. Captain." The man reached out with his non-bloody hand to shake hers. She went to the sink and washed up as he spun out his story. "Nothin' serious. Just a little kerfuffle over a shipment. Couple of bullets exchanged. Normal sort of day."

"Captain?"

"I've a ship, _Serenity_. She ain't the fastest or the prettiest boat in the sector, but she flies true. It's a sight to see, out there in the black. You ever been off-planet, Doc?"

She sighed. "Next time I won't ask." He seemed a little old to be in a gang. Who knew what he was really up to, to get a bullet in his flank?

"There a problem?" His brow furrowed.

"No problem," she said.

"You ain't gonna tell anyone I was here?" he asked, looking tense.

"Doctor-patient confidentiality," she reminded him.

"Ah," he said, relaxing. "Good then. Shall we get on with the mending?"

"Mind if I take a look at the wound?"

"Wish you would," Reynolds said, and tugged up his shirt, wincing. It was a clean wound, almost a graze. Cuddy dragged on some latex gloves and probed gently with her fingertips.

"All right, Mr. Reynolds, it doesn't seem too bad. Not near any major organs, no bones broken, but the bullet's still in there. I'll have to remove it before I suture the wound."

"I'll grit my teeth," he said with a charming grin. She raised her eyebrows at him and reached for the forceps and some gauze and some peroxide gel.

"I think this will be easier if you lie down," she said, and slid one arm under his back to help him ease down. His shirt rode up as he shifted on the table. He had some interesting scars. "I'll be as gentle as I can, but this may hurt."

"Don't mind me, I'll be just as quiet as a mouse."

"Good," Cuddy said. "I'd rather not have your girlfriend in here out for blood."

"Who, Zoe?" Reynold's laugh was almost a bark. "She's more like to slap me stupid than kiss me. She ain't my girlfriend. She's my first mate. On my boat. Of which I am the captain." He sounded proud.

"That explains a few things," Cuddy said, peering at the wound in the better light.

"I hope you don't mind my sayin', Doctor Cuddy, but you favor someone I know."

"Oh?" said Cuddy vaguely, dabbing at the wound with a piece of gauze. "Who's that?"

"She's a whore," Reynolds said matter-of-factly.

"I see," said Cuddy, poking with the forceps just a little harder than necessary.

"I don't mean it that way," Reynolds said hastily. "She ain't that kind of whore, she's classy. A lady. Most sophisticated woman you'll ever meet. Long sight more educated than I'll ever be, and handy in a fight besides."

"She sounds like quite someone," Cuddy said.

"There ain't anybody quite like Inara," Reynolds said, his voice soft and distant. He caught himself and looked up at her. His eyes crinkled flirtatiously. "I 'magine people say the same about you." Cuddy smiled to herself. She grabbed the bullet with the forceps and pulled it out in one clean quick motion, dabbing the wound with peroxide gel with her other hand. Reynolds hissed through his teeth.

"I'm going to have to put in stitches," Cuddy warned. "It'll hurt." She found a needle and some sutures in a drawer and ripped open the sterile packets.

"Do your worst," Reynolds said, looking away. "You know, I wouldn't even be here if my" - here he said something that sounded like a cross between a cough and a takeout dish - "doctor hadn't seen fit to run off with my mechanic. This is exactly why I disapprove of shipboard relations. Complicates things. Got to fly for hours just to find anyplace that looks like a hospital, and then the navcom's down so you don't even know what the hell sector you're in. Stuck with half a crew and a stars-in-her-eyes pilot keeps telling me we're at the end of time." She poked the needle into his skin and he rattled off a long string of something incomprehensible except that it was clearly swearing. Chinese? He didn't look Chinese. But Princeton was a university town: it attracted all sorts of people. Cuddy rummaged around and found a tongue depressor and handed it to him. Reynolds nodded his thanks and clenched it between his teeth.

She stitched up the wound as quickly and tidily as she could, spreading antibiotic cream over the fresh stitches. "There you are. Keep it clean. Those will need to be taken out in a week or so. Maybe if your doctor comes back, he can do it."

"If not, Zoe'll manage," Reynolds said, sitting up. He made a face at the way the wound pulled as he climbed down off the table. "My thanks to you, Doctor. I would have been in a world of hurt if it weren't for you." He bent in a little bow and she thought he might kiss the back of her latex-covered hand.

"That's what we're here for," she said, stripping off her gloves.

"What do I owe you?" he asked, pulling a jangling bag out of a pocket she wouldn't have thought would hold it. His pants were tight, but now that she was looking at him as a person instead of a patient, he filled them out nicely. There was a funny sort of charm to him, a kind of cowboy appeal. It was a pity he was insane. She might have asked him out for coffee, if he came back to get the stitches removed. Just one of those fleeting fantasies. Cuddy came back to herself abruptly to find Reynolds watching her.

"This is a free clinic, Captain, you don't owe anything."

"That's quite the courtesy," he said. "Hell, I can't leave you with nothing." He pressed a little disk of metal into her palm and curled her fingers over it. She thought of Peter Pan and his thimble kiss. "Thank you again, Doctor. I'll take my leave. If you ever get the hankerin' to see the stars, well, depending on the honeymoon, I might have a good long opening."

She stood in the doorway and watched him go. Zoe was fidgeting in the waiting room; she leapt to her feet at the sight of Reynolds and tagged along at his heels, asking questions in an undertone, foreign words all mixed in. He waved, placating her, and looked around for one last smile at Cuddy. She leaned forward a little bit, half-tempted to follow him to wherever he was going, but then just smiled back and busied herself with looking over paperwork from the clinic, trying not to turn around and watch him leave. There were a few errors on the timesheet; she and Nurse Previn sorted them out in a few minutes, and Cuddy turned to go back to her office.

There was a roar outside. Cuddy dashed through the doors just in time to see the big ship heave itself up over the trees and blast into the sky. She watched it disappear, her mouth open. Someone crashed through the door behind her and House crowded up, staggering into her personal space.

"What did I miss?"

She grinned at him and walked inside. Brenda handed her a clipboard. "What's this?"

"Take a look at it." Brenda nodded.

Cuddy glanced at the page. "One for the files." A normal form, except that it had been filled out in what looked like painstaking Chinese calligraphy. She looked at the disk in her hand, the funny markings on it, and back at the form.

"Actually, I think I'll keep this one." She carried it into her office and slid it to the back of her top drawer, dropping the little metal disk into her paperclip compartment. Outside her doors, House was heckling the nursing staff.

"And that," she murmured to herself, "is exactly why you do your clinic hours."


End file.
